


In other words, until I die

by killjoyfart



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, M/M, boys being disgustingly sweet, breakfast making and song lyric quoting because that's probably what living with harry is like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoyfart/pseuds/killjoyfart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Louis watches Harry making breakfast and realises this is pretty much how he'd like to spend the rest of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In other words, until I die

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Arctic Monkeys' version of Baby I'm Yours and [adorable art by 1D-likes](http://1d-likes.tumblr.com/post/88101424285/until-the-stars-fall-from-the-sky-until-the)!

Louis rests his jaw in his hands where he's sitting at the kitchen table watching as Harry makes them both breakfast. He feels like an actual happy cherub chilling on a pink cloud, which honestly is at least half accurate.  
I am a tattooed cherub who's terribly in love, Louis thinks and snorts out loud.

They're in Harry's London house, which is rare, even though they both helped planning the interior design to make it feel at home for both of them. Actually it's more like their house than Harry's, but well. That obviously isn't a thing that's acknowledged. Oh thank heaven for hidden back entrances, and also for 7-eleven, Louis thinks.

When they do spend time in the house, they agreed on taking turns cooking for each other. However, Harry is happy to cook two days in a row whenever Louis doesn't feel like doing it which is, well, more often than he does feel like it.  
    It's not that Louis is a bad cook, he really isn't, it's just he enjoys watching Harry swirl around the kitchen gathering pots and spoons and groceries, silently humming his current favourite song.  
Harry is a fucking hipster, is the thing, always singing a new tune by some obscure dude with a ridiculously fluffy beard reeking of acoustic indie guitar stuff. Or whatever.

Right now he's not singing, though. He is reciting song lyrics using his best posh BBC accent.

”Baby, I'm yours. And I'll be yours until two and two is three, until the mountains crumble to the sea. In other words, until eternity.”

He stretches the last ”y”, making it sound like Louis imagines stretching a chewed gum would if it, you know, made a sound. ”Eternityyyyy.”

Louis knows this song. It's by Arctic Monkeys, he thinks, which makes it not that hipster.  
Unless, of course, it is a cover, which is highly possible. He doesn't know and he doesn't care that much, so he just looks fondly at Harry who's running his fingers (god damn, that boy's fingers) through his ridiculously long hair and smiles.

”You're a fucking sap.”

Harry turns around, grabs today's newspaper from the table and jokingly slaps Louis with it.

”No... [slap] Swearing... [slap] In my... [slap] House! [final slap.]”

Louis rises (majestically) from his seat and gets up (not so majestically) on the little stool they keep in the kitchen to be able to reach the upper cupboards, and kisses Harry's head.

It's moments like this he feels like they could actually do the couple thing. Being a loving little family, just the two of them, kept safe from all the madness. It's moments like this Louis feels the most happy, and like he'd be fine with spending the rest of his life just like this.


End file.
